


Retreat

by amassivehomosexual



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, they get a little sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:35:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7673809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amassivehomosexual/pseuds/amassivehomosexual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Lance feels unwanted and Shiro tries to show him otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Retreat

**Author's Note:**

> What do you mean there are other topics to write about besides Lance angsting?
> 
> (I was too embarrassed to even really edit this so sorry in advance)

Lance doesn’t hate himself. He just doesn’t really love himself either. He knows he’s too skinny (how can he not, everyone he’s ever met has told him to bulk up) and that no amount of skin care will make up for mediocre facial features. He tries to compensate for it with his personality, but he’s heard whispers here and there about how annoying he is. Even in space, far away from the bullies of his youth, Pidge and Keith certainly don’t keep their irritation with him a secret. Lance feels a little like there’s no winning.

 

He hates to admit it, but honestly, he’s getting pretty upset being stuck in this castle. It’s hard to keep up his jovial attitude when he’s constantly getting glared at by the team. Allura is kind about it, but she obviously wants nothing to do with him. Pidge hasn’t done more than sneer at him in weeks. Shiro acts interested in what he has to say, but Lance knows he has much better things to do than hang out with him. Keith hates his guts. Even Hunk, the closest thing Lance has to a friend, tends to drift away (both metaphorically and literally) when Lance starts to babble. He can take a hint, so one day, he just stops.

 

It’s fine. Sure, Lance is bored out of his mind, but it’s better than being faced with groans and sighs all day. They can still form Voltron and do their jobs, which is the most important part. A week or so passes of keeping himself cooped up in his room and staying mostly quiet when he has to be around the others. Nobody seems to notice. If they do, they’re relieved, he’s sure. 

 

Lance is reorganizing his precious few belongings when someone finally comes looking for him. Lance forces down the surge of happiness that threatens to bubble from his throat; he skipped dinner, so whoever’s at his door is probably just making sure he’s still alive. When he opens it, he isn’t all that surprised to see Shiro.

 

“Hey,” he greets, none of his usual energy behind it. It brings a concerned frown to Shiro’s face.

 

“Hi. Can I sit?” Shiro waits for Lance to nod and gesture towards his bed. Lance returns to sorting the knick knacks on top of his dresser while he waits for Shiro to say his piece. “Is everything okay?” he asks, voice gentle.

 

Lance casts him a look over his shoulder. “Of course, man.”

 

“Are you sure? You’re not acting like yourself.”

 

Lance can feel himself bristle and wills himself to calm down. He doesn’t want to be the source of any of Shiro’s anxiety; he has plenty of that already. “Shiro, I promise you will be the first to know if anything is up.”

 

Shiro doesn’t look convinced, but he nods. “Okay. I trust you, Lance.” Lance feels a little pang of regret in his chest. He’s never liked lying, and Shiro really does do his best to be nice to him. Shiro stands up, smooths down Lance’s bedspread, and moves to leave. “Will I see you at breakfast?” he asks, hovering at the door.

 

“Sure, man.”

 

\---

 

Despite Lance’s insistence otherwise, Shiro is sure something is wrong with him. He’s still amicable as always, but he feels distant. He doesn’t rise to Keith’s bait as enthusiastically and hardly cracks a joke at meals. Instead of lingering around in the main lounge to chat after they’ve finished training, he vanishes the moment he’s no longer needed. Shiro is beyond concerned. He can see it in the eyes of the rest of the team as well, all of them exchanging glances when Lance slinks off.

 

He keeps expecting Lance to bounce back, sure it’s just another bout of homesickness, but his energy never seems to return. Even after a couple successful battles where they’re all on the top of their game, Lance just gives them all a quick grin after their debriefing and hunkers down in his room. 

 

It’s become much too quiet around the castle without Lance’s laughter echoing down the halls.

 

Unsure how else to make Lance confide in Shiro, since flat out asking didn’t work, he suggests to Allura one day that they might benefit from another round of mind melding. She seems perplexed by the request. “You’re already quite in sync with one another,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “The last mission went spectacularly.”

 

“Yes, well, it can’t hurt to become even more so.”

 

Allura nods. “True,” she agrees, never one to pass up on extra training anyway.

 

Shiro knows it’s an unspoken rule to not go rooting around in each other’s heads. They have a right to their privacy, after all. He certainly wouldn’t want any of his fellow paladins bringing unpleasant memories back to the forefront of his mind. Still, he pokes and prods at Lance. He’s been tossing the idea around in his mind for days, and he’s determined to figure out what’s eating away at him, even if he has to be sneaky about it. 

 

He’s rewarded with a quick burst of emotion from Lance. It’s a heart-wrenching sense of loneliness, of frustration. Flashes of memories pour into Shiro’s head, moments of the team laughing together at dinner, only to turn and frown at something Lance said. He sees Hunk’s back as he walks away, Keith glaring daggers at him, Shiro absently smiling and nodding, looking elsewhere. He can feel a ghost of hands on his shoulders pushing him away, sees a look of disgust on Allura’s face, sees snippets of women from back on Earth laughing cruelly. Shiro feels his own embarrassment mixing with Lance’s as he’s held beneath a boy, bed sheets under him, feels the shame and hurt and feels used and filthy. He sees Keith mouthing ‘cargo pilot.’ A wash of panic overrides everything, and Shiro knows Lance has realized the breach. The meld shatters.

 

Shiro looks up, an apology on his tongue, but Lance has already thrown the headset to the floor and is stalking off. “What’s up his ass?” Keith snarks. Shiro can see Lance tense up even further as he rounds the corner. Shiro frowns at Keith, who shrinks under the disapproving look, but he’s secretly glad no one else was exposed to Lance’s emotions. He feels guilty enough.

 

“I’m going to go talk to him,” Shiro murmurs before trailing Lance back to his room.

 

He stands outside Lance’s door for a few minutes, trying to compose a proper apology. He eventually rolls his eyes at himself and knocks; there’s little point in running a hundred simulated conversations through his head. 

 

“Go away,” Lance responds, sounding drained.

 

“I’m coming in.” Shiro pushes open the door, pleased to find it unlocked. Lance is sitting against the headboard of his bed, knees pulled into his chest and arms locked in front of his ankles. He scowls at Shiro, who closes the door behind himself and perches on the edge of Lance’s mattress. “Lance, I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to pry…” He frowns. “Well, yes I did.” When it’s clear Lance isn’t going to reply, he continues. “We’re all worried about you. Please talk to me.”

 

Lance laughs, the sound bitter and grating and nothing like his usual snickering. “Fuck off,” he says, dipping his head to hide between his body and legs.

 

“None of us think of you like that, Lance.”

 

“Don’t pity me.”

 

“Lance–”

 

“Voltron is fine.”

 

“That’s not what this is about!” Shiro tugs one of Lance’s arms away to reveal his face, but he can’t force Lance to make eye contact. “I care about you.  _ We _ care about you.”

 

Shiro doesn’t miss the quiver in Lance’s lower lip. “Don’t lie,” he pleads.

 

“It’s true.” Lance glances up at Shiro, looking skeptical. He opens his mouth to say something but ends up just closing it again. Shiro has never seen him so vulnerable. He gently pulls him forward into his chest and wraps an arm around his shoulders. Lance is stiff, but Shiro holds him there anyway. “I had no idea you felt this way. I’m sorry I didn’t realize earlier.”

 

“It has nothing to do with you.” Realizing this sounds harsh, Lance backtracks. “It’s not your fault.”

 

Shiro leans back enough to look down at Lance. “I can talk to the others, if you want. We’ll work harder. I want you to feel at home.”

 

Lance looks far from pleased. “Don’t, that’s embarrassing. You can’t force them to like me, anyway.”

 

“I won’t be forcing anything.”

 

He pushes Shiro away. “Drop it. It’s not a big deal.”

 

“You’re clearly upset–”

 

“Shiro. There’s nothing you can do about it. You’re not even supposed to  _ know _ ,” he snarls.

 

Shiro winces. “I’m sorry,” he says again, guilt flooding his emotions one more time. Lance shifts back against the headboard and waves a hand at him dismissively. “I’m here for you, okay?”

 

“Whatever.”

 

Shiro gives him one last kicked puppy look before retreating from the room.

 

\---

 

While Shiro is happy to know the root of Lance’s issues, he knows he messed up. It was a severe invasion of privacy, after all. Even so, he can’t stop dwelling on what he saw. One particular moment keeps popping into his head no matter how hard he tries to suppress it.

 

Every time he closes his eyes, Shiro sees the image of Lance flat on a bed. It’s Lance’s memory, so of course he couldn’t see all of Lance, but he had a clear view of his lower body. He can’t stop thinking of the striking tan lines around Lance’s hips and his upper thighs (they were so high up, his swimming trunks couldn’t have been much longer than a pair of boxer briefs–how very European), can’t stop remembering the wispy hairs trailing up to his navel, can’t stop remembering...well, other things. The strange, cruel-looking boy between his legs and the accompanying feeling of humiliation should have been plenty of a turn-off, but Shiro still finds the memory erotic. It’s not an appropriate time for thoughts like these but Shiro is still pleased by the suggestion that Lance may bat for the other team as well.

 

When he manages to get his mind out of the gutter, Shiro selfishly recalls Lance’s memories focused on him. They were much less cruel than the snippets of the other paladins, save perhaps for Hunk’s. Shiro is glad; hurting Lance is the last thing he wants to do. If the worst he’s done is have his attention divided, he can live with it. The disappointment he caused is still upsetting, though, even if it’s nowhere near the heartbreak from seeing Hunk leave or the hot anger and frustration from Keith’s words.

 

A strange part of Shiro wishes he mattered enough to cause Lance grief, but he shoves this bit of himself down in disgust.

 

Shiro knows he should respect Lance’s wishes, but he just can’t remain silent on the matter. He only makes it a few days before he’s approaching Keith one evening while he’s stretching. Keith is a sweaty mess from training (he pushed himself too hard again; Shiro has tried and failed to stop him) but despite his discomfort, he makes time for Shiro.

 

“I need to talk to you,” he says, though that much is obvious.

 

Keith extends his legs forward and reaches out to grab his toes. “About?”

 

“Lance.”

 

He raises his eyebrows at Shiro. “Oh?”

 

Shiro places his hands on his hips as he watches Keith. “He’s been upset, lately.”

 

“No shit.”

 

“Keith, please.” Shiro sits down in front of Keith, crossing his legs. “Listen, I know you guys don’t get along, but go easy on him.”

 

Keith casts him a withering look. “What.”

 

“He’s feeling…” Shiro pauses. “Neglected, I guess. Like he’s not fitting into this, uh, family.”

 

Keith smirks at the pink on Shiro’s cheeks. “Okay,  _ dad _ , I’ll play nice.”

 

“Don’t call me that,” Shiro sighs, massaging the bridge of his nose. Keith snorts and stands to leave, extending a hand to help Shiro up. “I really need you to be kinder to him, Keith.”

 

“It’s a two way street,” he grumbles.

 

“Keith,” Shiro scolds. Keith rolls his eyes and stalks away.

 

The moment he’s showered and dried off, Keith barges into Lance’s room unannounced. “You’re the one who started this stupid rivalry thing, and now you’re being a little bitch about it?”

 

Lance freezes up. “What?”

 

“Shiro’s pissed at me for being mean to you, or some shit,” he growls.

 

Heat rises to Lance’s cheeks. “I told him not to tell you!”

 

Keith glares at him. “He scolded me like a five year old anyway, even though you’re clearly a bigger baby than me.”

 

Lance matches his glare with even more intensity, somehow. “Don’t blame this on me! He went into my head without permission!” He clenches his jaw and turns away. “It doesn’t fucking matter, okay, you can keep hating me. Shiro’s being stupid.”

 

Keith’s face softens without his permission. “I don’t hate you.”

 

“Shove it up your ass.”

 

“I don’t!” Keith finally slams the door closed. “I don’t know why you’re so upset lately, but it’s weirding me out.”

 

Lance looks poutier now, which is better than his glaring, Keith decides. “You wouldn’t understand. Everyone  _ likes _ you.”

 

Keith’s eyebrows twitch downward. “Uh, Earth to Lance, everyone likes you too.”

 

“That’s not–”

 

“You have got to be kidding me.” Keith wants to punch him. “Everyone has been worrying about you all this time, and you’re just being stupid.”

 

Lance whips his head around to fix another scowl at Keith. “If you’re just going to be an even bigger dick, get out of my room!”

 

“You’re so annoying!”

 

“I’m aware, thank you!”

 

Keith wants to yell at him more, but he stops himself when he sees Lance’s eyes start to water. His anger is replaced with shock; he looks closer to tears than when he gets so terribly homesick. Keith isn’t sure what to think.

 

“Get out,” Lance chokes out, a little too close to a sob. Keith is too stunned to do anything but obey.

 

\---

 

Lance berates himself all night for getting so worked up. He doesn’t show up for breakfast, too embarrassed to face Keith after almost crying in front of him. He knows Shiro returns to his room for a while every morning, so when he’s sure no one is in the hall, he darts over and knocks on Shiro’s door.

 

Shiro is clearly surprised to see Lance. A tender look crosses his face, and it makes Lance angrier. 

 

“I can’t fucking believe you,” he snaps. “I told you not to talk to anyone!”

 

“Did Keith say something?” Shiro asks, eyes widening.

 

Lance’s shoulders are quivering. “ _ Yes _ , he said something, of course he did! He’s even more pissed at me, thanks!”

 

“I’m sorry, Lance, I just wanted to help,” he pleads, ice cold shame running through him.

 

“I’m trying to be less annoying and you’re just making it worse!”

 

Shiro pulls Lance inside and closes the door before they draw any attention. “You’re not annoying.”

 

“You’re the only one who thinks so, if you’re not just lying to me!” Lance can’t stop the hot tears from forming. Shiro reaches for him, but Lance punches him in the shoulder before he can get too close. Shiro doesn’t seem all that affected, and it makes Lance even more upset. “You can’t fix everything!”

 

“Lance, everyone misses you.”

 

“That’s a fucking lie,” he laughs. “Nobody’s talked to me except you, minus Keith calling me a bitch.”

 

“You’re being unreasonable.”

 

“I’m being unreasonable?” Lance repeats, eyebrows practically in his hairline. “You’re the one who rooted through my mind and brought all this shit up! You’re the one who told Keith things I explicitly told you not to tell anyone! You’re the unreasonable one!”

 

Shiro folds his arms over his chest and looks down. He knows Lance is right; he’s been handling this whole situation rather poorly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

 

“Good!”

 

“I know I’m being irrational, and I really am sorry.” He looks back up to make eye contact with Lance. His eyes are still red and watering. “I just care about you so much, and watching you suffer is making me stupid. I want to make it stop.”

 

Lance breaks eye contact to stare at the floorboards. 

 

“It’s too quiet when you’re like this, Lance. Everyone thinks so. Pidge was just complaining at breakfast.”

 

“They were probably just crabby because they were up all night again.”

 

“No, they were crabby because they miss you. You’re important to all of us. You make everyone happy when you’re around.”

 

Lance rubs at his eyes. “Everyone just yells at me when I’m around.”

 

“That’s because nobody on this ship knows how to express emotions like a rational human being,” Shiro chuckles. “You have a big family, you know how it is with siblings. It’s hard to appreciate things until they’re missing.”

 

“There’s nothing to appreciate,” Lance mumbles. Stubborn.

 

“There are tons of things to appreciate,” Shiro assures him, taking a step closer. He places his hand on Lance’s arm. He doesn’t flinch away this time. “You’re funny, and charming, and you always lighten the atmosphere when you’re around, you’re smarter than people give you credit for, you’re probably smarter than you give  _ yourself _ credit for–”

 

“Okay, okay.” Lance is turning red.

 

“You know how to read the mood better than anyone else here, you’re selfless enough to put everyone else’s needs before your own and make light of all your own problems…” Shiro’s hands find their way to Lance’s hips, and even he starts to blush. “Not to mention, you’re tall, and handsome, and your personal hygiene is just impeccable.”

 

Lance pushes weakly at his chest. There’s no feeling behind it, so Shiro stays close. “I get it, knock it off. This is embarrassing.”

 

Shiro just smiles and leans their foreheads together. “Do you believe me, though? I can go on.”

 

Lance pouts at him. “Fine.” His own mouth twitches when Shiro squeezes his hips and beams at him. “Did you see this in my head too?”

 

“See what?” Shiro watches as Lance manages to look even more embarrassed. “Oh... _ oh _ ,” he breathes, and leans in to press their lips together.

 

Shiro reaches up to touch his face. He frowns into the kiss and pulls away when his fingers find wet cheeks. Lance reaches up to hastily rub the tears away, but Shiro brushes at them himself before he can. 

 

“Lance,” Shiro murmurs, voice so low and affectionate that Lance thinks he may burst. “I don’t want to take advantage of you like this.”

 

“You’re not,” Lance assures him.

 

“Give it a few days.”

 

Lance crosses his arms. “Why?”

 

“Because you’re emotional right now, and I’m older than you, and I just don’t feel right about it. I’ve already done enough awful stuff to you the last few days.”

 

Lance looks incredibly displeased, but thankfully doesn’t protest much further. Shiro isn’t sure he’d be able to control himself if he did. He leaves with a grumbled “you’re not even that much older than me,” and Shiro sighs fondly.

 

\---

 

When there’s a knock on his door that night, Lance expects it to be Shiro. He blinks in confusion when he opens the door and finds Hunk on the other side. He’s holding a plate of what look like purplish cookies.

 

Hunk smiles sheepishly. “Can we hang out for a while?”

 

“O-Of course!” Lance steps back and lets Hunk in the room. Hunk glances around before deciding to sit on the floor, back against Lance’s bed. Lance joins him.

 

“You didn’t eat breakfast, and you didn’t eat much at dinner, either, so I thought you should probably have something before you go to sleep,” Hunk rambles. “And I noticed you haven’t been feeling good lately, so I tried to make cookies, but they’re a little funky. Sorry.”

 

Lance feels a thousand emotions bubbling up inside of himself, but they’re ultimately good ones. He smiles. “Thank you,” Lance says, voice soft and genuine. Hunk seems to glow. 

 

“I don’t know if you wanna talk or not, but if you do…” Hunk rubs the back of his neck. All of a sudden, Lance feels a little ridiculous. 

 

“It’s stupid,” Lance admits. “I thought–I felt–” He stops to gather himself. Hunk waits patiently. “I just feel so lonely, sometimes, you know? And when everybody ignores me or whatever, I know it’s my own fault for being loud and annoying, but it  _ hurts _ , Hunk, and I feel like nobody wants me around most of the time…” Lance stops to breathe, and is gathered up into Hunk’s big arms. He wraps his own gangly limbs around Hunk’s shoulders.

 

“Your feelings aren’t stupid,” Hunk assures him, warm hands rubbing his back. “It’s okay to be upset. You don’t need to bottle everything up.”

 

“Hunk,” Lance sobs.

 

“I know people can be cruel, but nobody on this ship means it. It sucks, but it’s natural to get irritated when you’re cooped up with six other people.”

 

Lance nods into his shoulder. “I know…”

 

Hunk squeezes him a little. “That doesn’t mean you can’t say something if people hurt your feelings, though. Okay?”

 

“O-Okay.”

 

“Good.” Hunk loosens his grip, and Lance pulls away a little. He’s not entirely ready to leave Hunk’s embrace yet though. He keeps sniffling, even as he smiles shakily at Hunk. Hunk nods at the plate. “Keith and Pidge and Coran all helped make these, you know. They’re worried too.”

 

Lance frowns. “Really?”

 

“Yeah,” Hunk says with a nod. “I don’t know what Keith did, but he’s been beating himself up about it. It’s a little pathetic.”

 

Lance laughs and draws back. “You’re such a bro,” he hiccups, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve one last time. 

 

The pride is evident on Hunk’s face. “I know.”

 

“Can I tell you something else?”

 

“Anything, man. Well, maybe not anything, but, you know.”

 

Lance snorts, then leans in. “Shiro kissed me this morning,” he confesses in a stage-whisper. Hunk’s eyes widen.

 

“What!? What happened?”

 

Lance grins and launches into the whole story. Hunk grabs a cookie and settles in as Lance talks his ear off, the sound more comforting than he thought possible.

 

\---

 

Lance starts hanging around the team a little longer, though he remains pretty reserved. He avoids interacting with Keith for the most part (Shiro is tempted to tell him to apologize to Lance, but he’s pretty sure that would piss them both off). The others are surprisingly well-behaved, though all it takes is one eye roll for Lance to get nervous and scuttle off. Shiro can tell Hunk must have talked to Lance too, since he’s acting more like himself whenever Hunk is around. Hunk hasn’t been discreet about giving Shiro careful looks, sizing him up. Despite Hunk’s friendly nature, he finds himself a little intimidated; after all, Hunk’s the one feeding him half the time. 

 

On the third night after their talk, Lance is at Shiro’s door again. Shiro is pretty sure he knows why he’s there (he smells like he just got out of the shower) but decides to tease him anyway. He leans against his doorframe and smirks down at Lance. “What’s up?”

 

Lance fidgets. “It’s been a few days.”

 

“And?”

 

“And–” Lance pouts at Shiro. “Ugh, you know why I’m here!”

 

“I wanna be sure.”

 

“I want to kiss you again,” he mumbles under his breath. He’s looking pretty keyed up, so Shiro decides to take pity on him. He takes Lance’s wrist and pulls him inside.

 

Shiro barely has time to close the door before Lance is on him. He always assumed Lance was all bark and no bite, but it seems like he actually does have quite a bit of experience backing up his wild tales of romance. Either that, or he’s just a quick study. Lance did pick up on piloting his lion pretty damn fast.

 

He steers Lance towards his bed. He doesn’t mean to be moving fast, he just wants to sit down and be comfortable, really. But once he has Lance pinned beneath him, a surge of possessiveness floods through him. Shiro finds it impossible to keep from getting a little handsy.

 

Lance tenses up when fingers slip under the hem of his shirt. Shiro pulls back. “Is this okay?”

 

Lance wants to curl into a little ball under Shiro’s intense gaze, but he can’t with Shiro’s firm thigh between his legs and torso hovering over him. “I’m really skinny,” Lance whispers.

 

“I’ve already seen it, you look great.”

 

“What?” Lance scrunches his face up.

 

Shiro blushes. “When, uh. When we were doing the mind meld thing. You were in a compromising position.”

 

Lance blinks a couple times before covering his eyes with a hand. “Nooo,” he whines.

 

“I thought about it a lot,” Shiro confesses. “You had tan lines. I wanted to see the little shorts that made them.”

 

“Oh my God.” Lance brings his other hand up to hide behind. Shiro grabs both his wrists and peels his fingers away.

 

“Don’t hide. I want to see your face. I wanted to see your face in your memory, too. I was jealous of whoever that guy was. Still am jealous.”

 

Lance is as red as a ripe tomato. “He was just some guy from high school…”

 

“I don’t care who he was, it pissed me off.” Shiro leans back in to kiss Lance’s neck, rucking his shirt up over his chest as he does so to trace his flat stomach. “I wanted to be him. He didn’t deserve you.”

 

“Shiro…”

 

Shiro thumbs at the button of Lance’s jeans and glances at his face, waiting for approval. Lance nods and bites his lip. Shiro frees it with his own mouth as he wiggles Lance’s pants off. He looks down and grins. “They’re pink.”

 

“I didn’t think you’d go this far!” Lance cries, face matching his boxer briefs.

 

“I like them, they’re cute.” He slides his thumb under the white elastic just to tease, trying not to rush things, but he’s stopped in his tracks.

 

“Shiro?” Lance asks, face wrinkling into confusion.

 

He has to swallow before he can speak. “I thought they, uh, would have faded by now.”

 

Lance squirms under his scrutiny. “I spent a lot of time at the beach,” he offers.

 

“Jesus, Lance.” Shiro rushes to get Lance’s shirt the rest of the way off before leaning in for another kiss. Impatient fingers unzip Shiro’s vest and shove it down his shoulders. It takes a lot of self control for Shiro to stop long enough to take off his turtleneck and throw it to the ground. Lance lets out a needy sound and trails his hands down Shiro’s back. “You’re really cute, you know that?”

 

Lance grins. “I try.”

 

“Fuck,” Shiro groans. He ruts against Lance’s hip, pressing his thigh between Lance’s legs a little harder.

 

“It’s not like you to swear,” Lance chuckles, one hand sweeping back Shiro’s bangs while the other dips below the waistband of Shiro’s pants. Rounded fingernails dig into the flesh of Shiro’s ass, making him jerk forward a little.

 

Shiro places open-mouthed kisses along the underside of Lance’s jaw, letting his teeth skim the soft skin here and there. “You do weird things to my self-control,” he admits. “I wanted to take things slow, but here we are.”

 

“Is it okay?” Lance asks. He tugs on Shiro’s bangs to get him to look up.

 

“More than okay, if it’s okay with you.”

 

Lance grins and pulls him down for another kiss. Shiro feels a little dizzy. It only gets worse when Lance raises his hips and Shiro feels him against his thigh, already hard. Needing to catch his breath and relieve the tightness between his legs, Shiro slides off the bed and stumbles to get out of his pants. Lance licks his lips.

 

Shiro is on top of him again in a flash, this time with their hips fitted together and Lance’s long, tan thighs spread wide around him. Lance grips the sheets by his head with one hand, knuckles white. His other finds its way to Shiro’s hip and pulls him in closer. Lance half sighs, half whimpers as he grinds upward. The hot pink boxers are doing little to hide him, and Shiro is beyond elated about it. They look so good on Lance that he almost doesn’t want to get rid of them. He wants to see those tan lines for himself, though. “Can I?” he asks, snapping the elastic.

 

Lance hesitates for a moment. “You too,” he finally demands. Shiro nods and lifts himself up just enough so Lance can pull his legs together and strip down. Shiro bites his lip, shoving his own pair down and off. Lance’s tan lines are definitely not as severe as they were in his memory, but they’re still pretty stark. Shiro wants nothing more than to get on his knees and leave marks all along the lines, but he’ll save that for another day. “You have a kink or something?” Lance asks, smirking, but Shiro can see he’s self-conscious from the tense line to his shoulders. He runs a hand along Lance’s thigh and spreads him open again.

 

“Maybe a little.” Shiro almost chokes when thin fingers reach out to touch him, gentle and hesitant. He buries his face in the crook of Lance’s neck. A little yelp escapes him once Lance’s other hand sneaks around to get a handful of his ass again. His hips stutter into Lance’s grip.

 

Lance gains confidence in his movements. “Touch me,” he begs, thighs clamping around Shiro’s sides only to open again. Shiro doesn’t need to be told twice. He captures Lance’s mouth again, swallowing all his pleas and whimpers (and drowning out a few of his own as well). Even in this, Lance is loud.

 

Neither of them last long, high on the novelty of the experience. Lance voice breaks when he comes and Shiro is pretty sure he’s going to have scratches from his ass to his lower back. The bite of pain sends him over shortly after.

 

Shiro grabs his turtleneck from the ground and wipes their hands and torsos clean, and for a few minutes, there’s peace. Lance doesn’t close his legs. That paired with his heaving chest and mussed hair almost makes Shiro ready for another round. He’s already dozing off, though.

 

He opens his eyes when he feels the mattress shifting. Lance is sitting up and gathering his clothing up off the floor. Shiro frowns and reaches for him. “Lance,” he murmurs, fingers tightening around his thin wrist. “Stay.”

 

A crease forms between Lance’s eyebrows. “What?”

 

He tugs. “Come back to bed.”

 

“You don’t…” Lance licks his lips, nervous. “You don’t want me to leave?”

 

Shiro gives him a strange look. “Of course not. How unromantic.” He drapes an arm over Lance’s side as he shimmies back into bed and rubs his thumb between Lance’s knitted brows. His expression relaxes. “You thought I’d kick you out?”

 

Lance looks ashamed. “That’s what always happens.”

 

“Lance,” Shiro sighs, chest tightening. “You’re important to me, you know that, right? This isn’t a one time thing for me.”

 

“I-It’s not?”

 

“No.”

 

“But…” Lance fidgets with the bedsheets. “You can do so much better, I’m not that great to look at and I’m not interesting or-”

 

“Lance!” Shiro scolds. Lance bites his lip. “Don’t put yourself down like that. I like you.” He pulls Lance closer and nuzzles his nose into his hair; it’s soft and smells like his fancy shampoo. “Don’t criticize my taste.”

 

“But-”

 

“No ‘but’s. I think you’re wonderful. I meant everything I said before, and I’ll say it again until I get it through your thick skull.”

 

Lance exhales and curls into Shiro’s bare chest, enjoying the feeling of warm skin on warm skin. He skims his hand over the bumpy scars on Shiro’s back. “I like you too,” he whispers.

 

Shiro chuckles, the vibrations shaking Lance a little. “I sure hope so after all this.” Lance beams and presses a kiss to his chest.


End file.
